


It's Not the Desert You Dream of it's the Boy

by victoriousscarf



Series: Beware of Heroes [11]
Category: Dune - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin dreams--of the desert, fire, and a strange boy who asks him "Tell me of the waters of your homeworld."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not the Desert You Dream of it's the Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuTBC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuTBC/gifts).



> More or less the prelude to the start of the Thorin storyline.

Thorin dreamed again, a boy on an ocean world.

He had always dreamed.

Later, he would say that he had always dreamed of the desert, though perhaps this was simply hindsight trying to make the past neat, a simple justification for the destiny he chose.

He had always dreamed of fire, since he could form dreams of things in the long reaches of the night. Fire that consumed, that flowed around and through him.

Rarely he dreamed of the ocean. There had only ever been one dream he could remember, when he was barely five years old and curled up around a pillow. He stood on stone stairs, carved out of dark and glistening stone, curling and rising above the ocean that lapped away at the structure, slowly eroding it. There was a light coming from above, but it was faint and far away. He thought he could see a woman, clothed in white and with the light of stars in her eyes, and other forms less distinct, further away. But he stood almost at the edge of the water, and he bent, not sure if he was five anymore or older, and touched the surface of the waves.

When his hands came back, they were covered in blood.

He refused to sleep for days after that, until his mother asked him why. He explained it was a dream and she became very still for a moment, before reaching out to touch his face and he could see only infinite sadness in her eyes. Barely a day later she started his training in Bene Gesserit techniques.

After that he mostly dreamed of fire.

Eventually, he dreamed of the boy.

The dreams started in the desert, winds shifting the sand and dunes falling to be rebuilt in the blink of eyes, and something dark roaring on the horizon. Chanting slowly rose in pitch, saying a strange word over and over, until it drowned out the roar and Thorin felt like he was falling through the sand, past faceless crowds, to land next to his father and grandfather, before they too blew away, turning into sand and falling away from his grasping fingers.

If the dream had ended there, he would have woken sweating and panting, too out of control of his body in sleep to stop his first reaction on waking.

Except water rose above him (but not the ocean, it was still and dark and there was no salt he could taste when he screamed and it fell into his mouth) and while he still felt like he was being suffocated by this dark water, he would see blue eyes.

Blue on blue eyes and if he hadn’t already been breathless and drowning, he would have stopped breathing then. Blue eyes and curly hair, skin stretched tight from lack of water and darkened from the sun, the boy would watch him.

“Tell me of the waters of your homeworld,” he would say and Thorin would stretch his mouth wide to tell him and wake up.

He had the dream for years.

Never quite the same, but never quite different.

He wondered who the boy was.

 


End file.
